Six Weeks and Counting

No nookie again.

Not for lack of want. That’s never been the issue. Blame last night on sheer exhaustion.

Between all of the loads of laundry, house cleaning and countless errands, sex seems to have fallen way down on our ‘to do’ list.

We have good intentions. I wore the ‘easy access’ nightie to bed last night… which screams “we are having sex tonight.”

And in the end, he wanted his usual. I didn’t. He was too tired to make a greater effort. So, we fell asleep to a depressing movie. And once again, a weekend goes by and I don’t get laid.

What happened to [throw you down on the bed, tear your clothes off, I wanna f*ck not make love, out of breath, sweaty, lay there for twenty minutes afterward because you can’t move because it was so good] sex???

It’s been six weeks.

I’m about to crawl right out of my skin.

I lay in bed last night, as he snored… and pleased myself. It’s not the same, but it will do in a pinch.

And as I sit here, trying to focus on the upcoming meeting I have with a client… I am wondering…

Is every couple like this? From sunrise to sunset we are moving at warp speed.

Get up. Pee. Get ready for work. Let the dog out. Get first cup of java. Wake kids up. Break up the usual squabbles while putting on make-up. Argue with six-year-old about dress code while combing out her tangles with pick because I can’t find the hairbrush. Help son find other shoe. Find other shoe in toy box along with hairbrush. Fix breakfast. Explain to six-year-old that brown cows don’t necessarily make chocolate milk while wiping syrup from lapel that son flung from fork while pointing at the dog eating other child’s waffle. Get kids bundled up and in the car, making two trips back inside for lunches… and coffee for the road. Drop kids off at school. Arrive at work.

Leave work late. Break ten traffic laws to ensure that children are picked up on time. Break up petty squabbles while pumping gas and picking up milk. Arrive home. Kiss mate. Pee. Start dinner. Download my day to mate while making lunches, preparing dinner and going through kids’ take-home folders. Eat. Remind myself at least ten times to maintain patience level as son drops food on the floor for the third time. Run kids through the shower like a car wash, stopping to open shampoo once and remind son to stop dancing in the shower four times, while picking up mess left from the morning. Pee. Finish folding last load of laundry. Put kids to bed, taking a moment to relish in their smallness. Take shower. Read with the news on. Pass out while still holding book.

I’m sure there is more.

On so many levels.